Money Can't Buy Happiness...

And that point was made quite clear to me this morning. We use this maxim in the West, but we don't take the meaning to heart and live by it. We use our abundant money to buy something that brings us a very limited happiness. Then, when we are unhappy again, we buy something else, and the cycle continues. We are unhappy despite all the conveniences we have at our disposal. Something could always be better, newer, brighter, tastier, healthier, cleaner, easier.

This morning, my English student, Tashi, spoke at great length about the differences he saw between the West and Tibet, with particular focus on happiness. He pointed out that in the West, we have everything. We have money, cars, houses, food, education, but very seldom do we seem truly happy. In Tibet, it is often the exact opposite. Many Tibetans do not have money, cars, education, houses, or even food, yet, they are often happy despite all of this. He said that many times, the government will provide food for those with none. They will give rice, butter and barley flour, but frequently, the family will then give the food as an offering to a local monastery, at the expense of their own hunger. This, he said, makes Tibetans happy, that they are able to give and provide for someone else. They are happy if they are able to visit this city, Lhasa, one of the holiest places in Tibet. They are happy as long as they have their prayer beads in hand and can recite their mantras.

While I know things have definitely been changing in Tibet, and more and more people, particularly in the cities are interested in making money and having "things", there are many, many people still living in tents, who have no electricity, no modern conveniences, no money, but they are, according to one Tibetan, still happy, even though by Western standards, they literally have next to nothing and live in conditions meaner than any we see among the homeless in the States.

Included in this personal happiness, is a willingness to share it with others. Aside from the occasional unkind person, Tibetans are more willing to help each other than any I have seen. One particular example involves riding the bus. The public transportation in the city is designed for maximum capacity. Buses in America are designed for comfort. They put as many seats as possible so that as many people as possible can sit and be comfortable while they ride the bus. Here, however, there is a row of single seats along either side of the bus and across the back, but the majority of the passengers on the bus must stand. In the States, I have ridden public transportation quite a bit, and it is not often the case that men will offer his seat to a woman, even if she is obviously pregnant. Furthermore, while most people will offer their seats to the elderly, it is done almost grudgingly. Each person will watch the others to see if someone else will get up first so he/she doesn't have to. On the contrary, here in Tibet, it is almost a race to see who can offer his seat first. The young are very solicitous of the elderly, helping them on and off the bus, and of course, making sure they are seated as comfortably as possible. It's as if they treat every elderly person as their own grandparent. It makes for a pleasant environment to stay in.

To this, however, I must add that pleasantness is not always the word of the day. A few days ago, I was waiting for a friend near the Jokhang, standing at the end of the street where a chain is stretched across to keep cars out. Keeping track of this chain, for apparently there are certain vehicles allowed to pass, are usually two men, sitting on stools with very little to do but talk with each other and occasionally lower the chain. As I was standing there on one corner of this street, a young man, probably not more than 13 or 14, pedaled his bicycle-cart between the curb and the post holding the chain. As he crossed behind the men caring for the chain, a woman ran into his cart with her bike, pushing this young man's cart into one of the seated men, causing him to fall off his green plastic stool. The woman left quickly, but the young man was left to face the man. He came around the front of the cart, confronting the young man. Before I had blinked twice, the older man had punched the cart driver in the face. This young man said nothing in return, merely put his hand to his mouth, and kept his head down. The chain guard spoke to him for perhaps two minutes while a small crowd gathered to watch, and some young men, perhaps in their twenties, watched from the opposite corner, laughing, at what, I could not guess. After the chain guard had finished, he returned to his seat and the young man continued on his way.

This encounter requires a bit of thought on my part, and more observation. I understand the chain guard's reaction to the incident, but I would like to understand the young man's reaction more. This is not to say that I hope to witness more violence, but I think this leads back to the way in which the young people treat and obey people who are older then they are, especially their parents and older siblings. Perhaps there is also a greater fear of authority than is openly visible. I would hazard a guess that if someone accidentally knocked over a valet parking attendant or a rented security guard in the States, and violence was committed, one party would be guilty of assault and the other would claim self-defense. But that is only a guess. There is much that goes on here that requires reading between the lines, a skill I hope to improve greatly.